Heartstrings
by Badwolf999
Summary: Dean is trying to avoid something, his past or himself?
1. One: Jeremy

**Heartstrings**

The dark lines swirled up and down, some came closer and other appeared to stretch out. They were almost black, it blended nicely with the dark red wood around it. Mahogany? Maple? Sam would know. Dean traces a grain line up to his chest then back down to his Corona bottle

"Sir?" Dean looks up surprised by the voice. _Cas_? "Can I get you another? Or maybe one when I'm off my shift?" He feels as though his head and eyes are being weighed down as he looks up towards the unfamiliar voice. A pretty waiter is bending at the waist staring expectantly at Dean.

"Another." Dean tips his bottle and gives a smirk towards the table.

"Before or after my shift?" The waiter smiles slowly, teeth straiter than, Garth, maybe. Why was Dean here, for the alcohol or to get laid? Maybe it was to drink until he forgot, if that was his motive then he had achieved his objective. His eyes travel from the waiter's ankles to his collar bone, was it just him or was this man desperate? Black leather tights and a white cotton pull over would never get this flamer a partner. Cory stands tall again and taps his pen impatiently, his name tag jiggles with each movement.

"I'm drunk as a confused skunk listening to U2." Dean slurs quietly and turns back to stare at the continuous lines in the wooden table.

"Yes you are, now are you or aren't you going to have another drink?" The waiter stops tapping and leans on one leg, his hip rising higher than the other. '_He's like an eight year old girl having a tantrum.'_

"I don't want another and I'm not interested so stop waving your bony hips in my face." Dean looks up angrily and dismisses the waiter. Without a word the waiter leaves with a huff, Dean cannot help himself as he stares at the leathery black ass. "Dick." Dean sighs and finishes his beer.

"He's gone you piss ant, stop sulking and move on." Crowley whispers softly.

"What do you want?" Dean's eyes travel across the table with a dull look.

"Next to your alcoholic soul? Nothing really." With a smug smile Crowley leans back in the booth and waves a different waiter over. "Scotch, please." He stares Dean down as he settles into the green corner booth.

"I think you better move on." Dean sneers and lays his Taurus down on his knee under the table. The bullets wouldn't do anything to Crowley physically, but it would give Dean time to escape back to his cabin, as long as he didn't get caught.

"I have a couple of questions first. Thank you." The waiter gives a polite nod and leaves.

"No I don't know where he is. No I don't know where Sam is. No I don't give a rat's low life ass if you want to settle a deal with me." He sighs and pushes the empty bottle away, perhaps another drink would make Crowley disappear.

"What a shame. Really it makes me," the king of hell pauses to watch Dean steam. "sad."

"You better leave before I put a bullet in your knee, or higher." Dean looks up as he cocks his weapon, his jaw is locked with confidence, but his eyes hang heavy with heartache.

"Oh stop it! You're making my meatsuit gooey. That was something Meg said, wasn't it?" With a sick smile Crowley downs his drink. "Lead won't do anything, but cause damage and a fine on your pretty head." He pulls the red napkin out from under the empty scotch glass and scribbles on it with a sharpie. Dean watches in mild anticipation, he mustn't let Crowley see how upset he is. "Here, squirrel. I think this should give your mind something to chew after instead of itself." With that, he was gone and only the napkin remained.

Dean curiously leans over as he holsters his gun. "'1315 East Madison street in Seattle Washington', why the hell did he give me this? I'm not working jobs anymore and I won't be starting again, son of a bitch." He looks up at the ceiling hoping Crowley will here him. He slowly stands and throws a couple bills onto the table then fishes his keys out of his jacket pocket. "I guess I have to go to the library or a coffee house and run this address. Such a bore, I could just ignore it and-"

Contact to his right shoulder rises old habits when his right hand rises to his gun immediately. '_Twice in one day, dammit.' _He turns to see another smiling face, obviously more sober than himself. The first reaction Dean has is to blow this guy off, but this man has green eyes and a little more than a five o' clock shadow.

"Whoa there partner." Damn, his voice is just as hot as he is.

A moment of mental recovery allows Dean just enough time to realize that the man has one hell of a thick boner. "Hi." Dean's mouth curves up into a small smile and his voice wheezes into a tight whisper. '_Get a hold of yourself__'_, Dean cursesquietly.

"You don't look too fit to be driving home by yourself." The stranger replied in a husky voice; although his smile is nice, he has a touch of yellow from previous Starbucks trips. Otherwise, this man is quite handsome.

"No, I guess I'm not, fit." He clears his throat and tries again. "What's you're name?" Dean noticed the man was rocking himself gently, was he nervous? _Pansy, _Dean thought to himself.

"Jeremy, and yourself?" Jeremy pushes his hand through the space that separates himself and Dean.

It took several seconds for Dean to decide whether or not he should lie, "The name's Mike." old habits die hard apparently. He shakes hands then wraps an arm around Jeremy's shoulders.

"I should take you home." Jeremy whispers and puts his hand on Dean's ass. A tight squeeze gets a rise from the pants and a grunt from the lips.

"Sound's good to me, partner." Dean chuckles stupidly and walks towards the door. Is this the right thing to do?


	2. Two: Alastor

**2**

Outside the rain comes down hard and thick, Oregon has a reputation for that. But what is motel room known for? According to Dean Winchester a room is just another place to crash, but maybe tonight things will be different. He and Jeremy went back to Palms Motel where Dean is staying for the week. The heated couple hardly noticed the carpet stains and faint stench of urine when they arrived back from the bar. Collapsing on the bed together, Jeremy straddles Dean's waist and traces some old hunting scars, with some amusement he starts to kiss them lovingly. Dean pulls at the sheets and starts tearing away Jeremy's clothes. They moan and grunt, pull and grind with each action. Dean pushes Jeremy off and onto the floor then climbs on top of him. He pounds his fist hard into the floor and rakes his sweaty fingers across Jeremy's hard chest, his thighs tighten and collapse as he pushes his body with ease.

"Oh shit." Jeremy closes his eyes tightly and sucks the damp air in. Dean collapses and runs his hands through his wet hair; Jeremy leans down and kisses his chest softly. _That was good, he has a strong stomach and damn. _"That was good babe." _Babe? I need to leave this town._

_ "_Yeah it was." Dean nods quietly and puts his hands behind his head. He feels his skin stretch across his damp biceps and chest, he needs a shower, but it could probably wait until he's in Washington. _Son of a-__, I need to go to Washington. Need?! _He opens his eyes angrily and sits up.

Jeremy pat's his thigh and smiles sideways, his eyes lighting up. _Just like Cas's. Stop it. "_I need to shower then head home for work, okay?" Jeremy stands and walks towards the shower, his ass is tighter and whiter than Axl Rose's. No wonder Dean slept with him.

"Awesome." Dean stands and shuffles his pants on and grabs his gear. "Time to go." He whispers as he zips his jeans and glances at the clock, five in the morning, he takes a swig from his flask. With luck Dean will be in Seattle in about six hours, then he can crash for another fours hours, that is, if everything goes well.

Without a goodbye or leaving a number Dean leaves the room and gets in his car. The rain pours down and ticks quietly against the metal hood. "No one can be my baby except you." Dean smiles at his car and starts her up. She roars perfectly and idles like a sleeping lion, she's been through so much, but then again, so has Dean.

Less than three hours later Dean has to stop to pee and eat, it's just breaking onto eight and his stomach is howling ambitiously. He reaches the outskirts of Elliot and pulls onto a muddy parking lot that promises a bar and grill. The slushy mud water splashes up the sides of the Impala and onto the windows, the potholes are huge. The diner is a single story, red roofed, tin bucket for truckers, there is very little to write home about, but for Dean, it's glamorous. The place looks cheap, but affordable so he waltzes inside and sits on a red bar stool. The place is still holding onto the Old Classic look, red plush booths and tiled floors. Even a juke box stands off to the side, not playing, but lit up for show, on the other wall there's signed photos from different actors and actresses. _Elvis never really left the building, hunka burning bones is what he will be if I ever get around to it._

"What'll it be sweetheart?" The waitress has her bottled red hair piled up like a mop on her head, her makeup looks like she got gang-banged by Crayola. She stands her pencil up ready to scribble down an order of fries and a double bacon cheeseburger.

"Beer and a double bacon cheeseburger with fries." Dean smiles warmly and winks.

"Anything else?" She draws her words slowly sans eye contact.

"That will be it," He leans foreword and squints "Velma" He folds his hands and settles into his seat. The waitress pins the order up in front of the cook and walks away. He spins on his stool to observe the place; the guy next to Dean is eating a normal breakfast, eggs and sausage. To the right is a family with three kids, all screaming and throwing small bits of food at one another.

"Hey, Charlie, how are ya?" Velma makes small chat with a new customer. He's tall with a very long, black coat, but he doesn't remove his hat. Only lost Californian idiots show up here dressed like that. The waitress walks away with the man's order, but Dean continues to stare. He's no longer on the job so why has he taken such interest in this dinky little dump? Charlie stirs a packet of sugar into his coffee and looks around, his back is too Dean so it's hard to tell much. He acts normal and dresses normal, but that's what most idjits would say about a potential demon. Dean's focus is torn in half when his meal clatters in front of him.

He chuckles and shifts his ass on the hard seat. "Heh thanks, Velma." He looks up and smiles, but Velma doesn't smile back. "Can I have this to go actually, duty calls?"

"No, we'll be eating in, Dean Winchester." She laughs loudly as her eyes shift to a menacing black, slowly the whole diner fills with laughter.

"Son of a bitch." He looks down at the floor and sighs, as usual the room full of demons stand still, waiting for him to attack first. _Maybe I can just back out of this one. _Dean scoots off his seat and and puts his hands in front of his chest. "I guess you bitches didn't get the memo." He stops smiling and tilts his head as though he's explaining to a child. "I don't play Scooby Doo anymore okay, I'm not your doll." He raises his brows and waits.

"No, maybe you don't, but we still do." A woman from the corner stands up and turns to Dean.

"Everyone in Hell wants you dead cuttie." Velma whispers.

"Can we play with his corpse, daddy?" A girl from the family of three pulls at her dad's clothes.

Dean looks around, panicked. He has no weapons or defense and there are too many to fight at once. He stutters a moment before collecting himself. "Not everyone! Not your boss!" A couple demons switch their eye sockets to the normal setting, others looks at him curiously. "I mean... I-" He scrambles and fumbles for the napkin. Several costumers take a step back, other do the opposite. _I still make them wet their Pampers, but I'm also on the menu. __They always want what they can't have.__ "_He gave me this." Dean waves the napkin at them then stuffs it away. "If you're so afraid of me then why are you still after me? Are you after Sammy too?" He stands straighter with more confidence, maybe he has the upper hand now.

"No, we just want you in our basement." Velma chuckles and smudges her lipstick.

"What's your safe word?" Dean smiles at his own joke.

_Wasn't the best tactic apparently. _"Charlie." She calls to the coat man. He stands and turns around, taking his time to button up his coat.

"Dean, I never thought we would meet." His face is dark, scarred like someone went after him with a dull knife_. All the pieces are there, but what the hell happened to this poor sap? _His bottom lip is split, his nose bends at an odd angle, and one eye is clouded and limp. He doesn't act as though he is in any pain. He shows no sign of any recent damage, maybe he's one of Crowley's favorite toys, but why hasn't Dean or Sam ever seen him? The odd thing though, his coat isn't a coat, it's a cloak. A black cloak.

"Death?" Dean puts his hands down and looks on with confused and feared eyes. "I think you need a nose job, Voldemort." No one outside seems to notice the commotion inside, has this town been completely over run with demons? "Don't you normal have reapers following your ass like Justin Beiber fans?"

"Quiet." The man puts his cane down, Dean feels his throat close and his lungs struggle. He waves his arms in defeat and stands still. "I'm Alastor. I'm sure you've heard of me, I just recently met your father. He was quite the bleeder once I was done with my job." He smiles as Dean cringes. His teeth are short, broken and yellowed, he looks like vampire, but his eyes are are a sharp blue like a demon with more juice than their boss, but still under the order of Lucifer. The clenching in Dean's throat ceases, but he does not have the courage to speak. "Well? I just insulted your father and scared you shitless. Anything to say to the jury before I drag you down to my penthouse?" Alastor takes a couple steps towards him.

"Alastair? Sam killed you though, I personally tortured you and saw your sick ass die." _Buy time and cook up a plan dumbass._

"No you ninny, Alastor. Alastair was my cousin, thank you very much for murdering him."

"Okay fine. Gag is over, you've cornered me and given me no way out, do me a favor and make it quick." Dean closes his eyes and bends his neck pretending he's going to be struck by a blade.

"Please, I'm the executioner of Hell, but I don't kill unless I'm ordered to." Alastor comes up to dean and draws his finger across his bare neck. "I do have a message from my boss." Dean opens his eyes and dry heaves, the smell coming off of Alastor is acrid; a putrid mix of burned cabage and a swim team's shorts.

"God, take a shower man." Dean stands strait and looks at the demon, his stance ready for battle, if needed.

Alastor grinds his sharp teeth together and stares coldly at Dean. "Puny human, the king was right. You're more pathetic than normal. Moving on, he says:" With a lick of his lips he pulls out a large book and opens it to the bookmark. "'Pull your sissy pants up and find him, stop dilly dallying and get to Washington before it's too late.'" He closes the book and smiles.

"Crowley said that? So now he's turned into a white rabbit that I'm suppose to follow? Listen you pretentious bastards, I don't have my tutu on for Black Swan. Go screw yourselves and leave me alone. I was heading up to Seattle and I stopped her for a burger, thank you." A couple murmurs and an awkward shuffles rises from the crowd.

"Very good. I hope you're leaving now." Alastor folds his hands neatly infront of him and gives a suggestive nod towards the door. Dean glares and slams through the door to his car.


	3. Three: Delaware

**3**

_Son of a bitch has put a leash on me. I never should have __let hunting go. I should of stayed with Ca- _Angry horns interrupt Dean's personal bashing, the intersection light has turned green. He looks in his mirror and sighs sadly, his face hold more wrinkles than Bush senior and his eyes have moved to a dusty green. The drinking has taken a toll on him, maybe he needs to go back home. Home? Does he even have a home anymore? He smiles a little and rolls slowly off the line, several drivers honk and curse at him, only two cars make it through the intersection. A small laugh rises out Dean's throat, he quickly wipes it away and turns on the radio.

"_Lean on me when you're not strong and I'll be your friend, I'll help you carry on."_

_ "_Jesus Christ." Disgusted, he turns off the radio. "Okay Crowley, I get it asshole!" He looks up at the roof and punches the gas passing Tukwila's welcoming sign.

The usual weather is settling in the town when Dean pulls up to a curb in front of a motel. The only problem with doing a job in the big city is the big prices; luckily, King's Inn is a little under a hundred a night with free wifi. The lobby has two plush, green chairs that sit around a light wooden table in the middle of the lobby, underneath them is a dusty red oval carpet. The travelers brochures wait patiently to be picked up by passing tourists. They face the door next to the elevator on the far back wall, a couple plants crowd the staircase that is to the left of the brochures. The front desk is directly right as you pass through the doors and standing there to great Dean is a pretty red head with a splatter of freckles.

"Hey cutie, I need a room." She smiles and searches her computer, her name tag says Alison with a blue bow. "You're looking very pretty today, Alison." She smiles without looking up and proceeds to write something down.

"A man said you would be coming by, he booked you a room, number forty-five. It's a single bed with a view of the river. He said that should bring back some good memories." She hands him the paper with the room number and some sloppy directions. When he doesn't answer her she asks nervously "You are the man, right?" Her red hair looks frazzled, like the straightener gel has lost effect. "Mr. Jolson?"

"Yes, that's me. Say, ah did this man look about yeh high?" Dean waves his hand around his shoulders and tries to get the hostess to understand. "Older, in a suit, maybe? British accent, arrogant, and crotchety as hell. Well, he is hell, so-" Dean stops and puts the paper in his coat pocket.

"Yes that was him, very nice man." She hands over a couple of papers and a pen. "Just sign these, please." She hands over a key with a key ring that's tagged with the motel's jolly king masscot. Dean looks at it momentarily before putting it down to sign papers.

"Thank you, miss." Dean smiles as he hands her the papers, he takes his key and walks out of the lobby. "Why is he doing this? Why can't he just leave me be. After Delaware and leaving Cas, I thought I was away from this bullshit." He bites his lip and closes his eyes to recover from the pain the memories are bring back. He gathers himself and walks across the road where a gold forty-five is written on the white motel door. The lock wiggles and protests and the tumblers turn, it opens with a quiet creak and releases stale air from the room. "So far, not so bad." Dean tilts his head as he examines the room and dumps his gear in the corner. On the bed is a card and a case of beer along with a bottle of Craig, Crowley's favorite. "Great."

"_Cheer up mate. Have a couple of beers on me as you research Seattle tonight, the room is on me this time. I thought maybe you would like the river view, it reminds me of Delaware, remember? Moose's fall and angel flake's falling out, that was quite a day. See you in Seattle! _

_ Xoxo, Crowley."_

Dean grinds his teeth and grips the card angrily, the paper folds together into a mash. He tosses it into the trash and violently walks out of the room slamming the door behind him. The windows rattle and a couple of pass-byers eye the scene suspiciously. His hands shake as he fiddles to unlock the impala and start her. _I just need to go to town, I need to go to town. _The tears slowly fill his vision and the dashboard looks blurry. He screams loudly and slams his hands down on the steering wheel, he pulls out of the lot with squealing and smoking tires.

His breath comes short as he sobs with his hands on the wheel. He's not drunk, he hasn't been pulled over, no, he safely parked in front of a Rite Aid and is grieving properly. The incident in Delaware comes at Dean like a tidal wave.

Delaware

Sammy, Cas, and him went into Delaware for a job. Cas was learning how to be a prober hunter after he recovered from being rejected by his angel mojo. He normally stayed behind or waited in the car if there was any danger, Dean didn't want to see his partner get hurt.

The three were staying at a motel just like the one in Tukwila. A view of the river and two twin beds. Cas slept by himself in a second room, a single twin bed with a view of the river. Five people were found dead in the woods, three women and two men. The first couple of days in town, Cas did research on the case while Dean and Sam went out to talk to the victim's family. It all boiled down to one murderer; the Crocotta, a viscous son of a bitch that lures their victims by calling out their name. Cas mentioned that it was Crocotta, but they should be careful because the trail of bodies were never in one spot, not normal for a Crocotta.

"The police usually finds the bodies in one place all at the same time. Back in 1992 there was a string of murders and all the bodies showed up at the same time in a pile out in the woods. It's been four weeks and five bodies, all showing up at different time." Cas introduces this fact to the two brothers and smiles, pleased with himself.

"Good job, Cas." Dean hits him on the shoulder and sits down to watch Asian porn. Sam gives a tight smile and sits down on one of the two beds.

"I think we have something different. I think-"

"Cas. We get what you're trying to say, we'll look into it tomorrow, right now," Dean sloshes his beer and smiles. "Beer, porn, pie. A man's basic elements."

"Dean, I think Cas is right, but Cas, I also think Dean is right." Sam brushes his mammoth hair out of his face and looks up. "Good work." Cas looks down disappointed and nods. Sam starts undoing his mokey suit while Dean soaks up the alcohol.

"Good night then." Cas whispers and shuts the door behind him.

The next morning the Castiel wakes at around seven, the sun is shinning brightly and drying out the grass around the river. On the radio there has been another murder so Cas heads out to the brother's room to inform them of the latest victim. Dean is lying on his stomach, his hands are under his pillow and his finger is probably hugging the trigger of his gun. He's in his underwear and a gray shirt, Cas feels disturbed when a new human emotion rises from inside him. It's soft and warm, but unfamiliar so he shoves it back down. Sam is snoring loudly, his face is half hidden from the pillow, his hands folded neatly next to his nose. The sheets have been kicked off of both the beds and there are burger wrappers spread all over the floor. Living life on the lamb hasn't been fun or easy. If it wasn't for Cas, Crowley would have found the boys by now. Unfortunately, the brothers don't seem grateful for his help. Again, another feeling arises, this time he can place it; resentment. He shakes the feeling off and goes over to Dean's bed side, he slowly rubs his shoulders then shakes them. The first reaction Dean gives is drowsiness, then awareness, and finally a gun in the intruder's face.

"Dean, please, it's time to get up." Cas moves over to Sam and does the same thing except rougher. Dean shuffles some pants on and grumbles about the sun.

At breakfast the three have coffee and breakfast sausage. Cas's introduces yesterday's concept again and hopes Dean or Sam will acknowledge him this time.

"I think Cas is right, this doesn't seem like a Crocotta. The kills and marks on the victims are the same of previous kills caused by Crocotta, but like he said; They are not in a pile, they're stringed out. And get this, they are all around an abandoned ranger's cabin." Sam says, he unfolds his hands from the coffee cup and dumps a packet of sugar in his mug.

"Something more? Something more such as a two-faced, douche bag named Crowley and his Blues Brothers group?" Dean takes a sip of coffee and looks at Sam. "Yes, I agree that this isn't a normal Crocotta attack, but I don't agree that Crowley has nothing to do with this."

"Dean, we didn't say Crowley isn't involved. There hasn't been any sign of him recently and thanks to Cas we haven't been spotted yet." Sam tries desperately to calm Dean down. On the other side of the table Cas smiles a little, he finally got an accolade, it was from Sam, but it was a damn accolade.

"He's been on our ass since we tried to close Hell and you tried to turn him human." Dean looks away and points a finger to make a point.

"By your suggestion!" Sam argues back.

"Whatever, I think we need to be careful, he probably knows we're here, he's probably waiting to feed our souls to his bitches." Dean rolls his eyes and leans back.

"I really think we need to see that a Crocotta is doing the killing, but he or she is under the order of something much more powerful than he or she. I doubt it it Crowley, he isn't that sloppy in fact he is smart enough to cover up his mistakes if he makes any." The waitress dishes out the food and nods at Dean before leaving. Dean admires the view from behind and Cas looks out the window.

"Again, I agree and that was what I was trying to tell you, Dean." Sam folds his hand out towards Dean, palm up. His hair falls forward again a he takes a bite of his eggs and a sip of his coffee. Dean nods dismissively and that was the end of breakfast.

Later that night Sam and Cas decide to capture the Crocotta. "It's too dangerous." Dean protests.

"It might be our only choice." Cas replies from the small table in the hotel room. Dean paces with his hands on his hips, Sam has his arms crossed and his eyebrows up. Dean grumbles and tries to think of a point that will make Cas or Sam change their mind. Oddly enough there's an abandoned ranger hut in the woods, most of the bodies were found near there and the police have searched it, but they found nothing as usual; with this being said, Cas has a fire proof feeling that the cuprit is holed up there.

"Alright, fine, but you bone heads better be right and you better keep smart out there. This time Cas is not staying in the car, an unpredictable Crocotta is too dangerous for two I think we will need all three of us out there." Dean walks over to the table and pulls his gun out to check it over. Sam smiles at Cas and begins examining the desired weapons needed for the hunt.

The drive to the woods is a little under ten minutes, Sam is biting his nails and Dean is strangling the Impala's wheel. On the other hand, Cas is happily sitting in the back seat watching the houses fly by like a like a picket fence. This is the first kill he has been on, he will be able to see Dean kill a monster, on other hunts he had to stay in the car while Dean and Sam go inside the suspected house. Even though he doesn't have his power any longer, he is somewhat capable with a knife, a gun is still a new concept. A formation was set up tonight as well, Cas will stand behind and in between Dean and Sam to protect their backs if they're ambushed, this is just to keep him behind and protected. Cas sighs and rings his hands. The Impala rolls to slow stop and Dean turns the engine off, the three sit and breathe for a couple of minutes before looking at one another. Was it such a good idea to jump the gun on this one? Sam is starting to reconsider coming out here, they know little to nothing about the monster or why he or she has changed their routine. Dean opens the driver door gently, the creak of the door's hinges comforts his nerves greatly. Will his brother and partner be okay?

The walk is cold, Cas hugs his blue coat closer to his thin body, as an angel the cold never effected him. The woods are dark, moist, and very slipper, dead leaves and moss cover the ground. Eventually they locate the old hut in the center of the woods, but they don't immediately move out into the open. The stay behind the tree line to watch for danger.

"This is it. The police report says the first body was found just ten feet from the door of this place. They thought little of it because it seemed likely the victim would try to hide from the attacker in some place that is familiar." Sam says as he stares at the mossy building.

"What?" Dean looks at Sam.

"You did hear that all the victims were related to a ranger or someone within that department." Sam looks over at his brother. Cas rolls his eyes and waddles over closer for more heat, his knees ache from crouching.

"Right. Let's move, I'm cold and hungry." Dean stands and holds his sawed-off in his right hand while the left hand mans a flashlight. In the clearing the forest floor is made of dirt or moss, no leaves or dead needles. Sam flashes the building as he proceeds foreword, everyone is hunched down slightly.

"I'm getting a very bad feeling, I don't know what you call that, instinct?" Cas looks up at Dean and lowers his light. Dean looks over and motions for him to shush then they continue on. One at a time they step onto the rotting porch, the stench is horrendous, something or someone was probably killed here just a couple of hours ago. Dean gags and covers his face with his shirt sleeve, Sam acts unconcerned and looks back at his buddies. One, two, three, Sam motions to them then opens the door. Guns are locked and flashlights dance in on the building's empty living room area. The smell stays strong, but doesn't change at all, maybe it's on the property instead of inside. Cas can't help but look over his shoulder and hug his knife closer. Dean and Sam fly in and search the place in case the Crocotta or anything else is actually there.

"It's empty, rotting and empty. I didn't hear or smell anything before we entered so I don't think our goon will be back with dinner for a while." Dean whispers and looks around. Sam nods and begins to search for clues that might help them understand the monster. Nothing is found and it's too far as well as too dark to hike back to the car.

"This was a horrible idea." Cas hugs his knees on the wet floor.

"I told you so." Dean puts a hand down so he can sit down as well.

"Now we wait." Sam says.

An hour? Maybe four? Who knows, but something wakes Cas. A rustling outside forces him out of his dream state in into a state of full awareness. Wasn't someone suppose to be on watch in case the monster came home?

"Dean." He hisses then leans over and shakes him roughly. "Wake up, it's here. Dean."

"I'm up dammit." Dean growls and shines his light. Sam wakes up slower, but soon turns his light on and joins the group. "I don't mean to comment on your gas, Sammy, but um.." Dean grins and looks at his brother.

Sam hits him in the shoulder. "Shut up, Dean. It isn't me, but I think you're right, the smell is worse. Do you think the smell is marked territory?" He looks at Cas then Dean. "Wasn't one of you on watch?"

"Normally an animal that marks territory knows when there has.." Cas peters out slowly and ends in a very scared little whisper "been an intruder, or three." He looks at Dean for reassurance, but is left to sit in a pile of muck and fear.

Now

Dean screams as loud as he could to push the memory out of his mind. That wasn't the end of what happened in Delaware, but he certainly wanted it to be. There were only trails of salt water on Dean's cheeks when he decides to drive himself to a nearby bar, he needs a drink and possibly a lobotomy. Why doesn't he just give up? What keeps him going? Every night he has a nightmare, a different play of how things went that night. He grinds his teeth and steps out of the car that's parked in front of the bar _just one_, he tells himself.

"I wouldn't be going there sonny boy." Crowley calls out from the other side of the Impala. He smiles and walks around to stand in front of Dean. He's wearing a black coat and a very dark purple suit.

"Did you just get home from the nineteen forties gay club?" Dean clenches his fists.

"Look at who's talking. No I'm just checking in, you seem to be just a couple dozen miles from Seattle." He says.

"Look you son of a bitch."

"Witch actually."

Dean's chest heaves, but he stands there. "You killed him. Why should I be listening to you or even following your dumbass instructions."

"Because you know in your heart that it wasn't me." Crowley smiles then disappears.

"He should of tuned you! He should of followed through! I'm going to put you in the ground you low life asshole!" Dean yells up at the blue sky.


	4. Four: Seattle

**4**

"Dean, wake up. Help me, Dean." Sam's voice wakes Dean like a shock of electricity. _It was just a dream._He throws back the sheets and looks over at the neighboring bed, empty and perfectly made. The sun doesn't show it's face through the window, instead he's greeted with a Washington sprinkle, it's nine in the morning and only a hour drive to Seattle. His knees creak as he slowly stands up and looks around. The small heater in the corner thumps on then gives an exhausted sigh, the clock buzzed, the room is just as it was when he entered. No one has been in here, not even a ghost, not even Crowley. Dean heads to the bathroom to take a piss and a shower; regretfully, he has let Crowley get under his skin again. As Dean washes between his legs he begins to think about Jeremy back in Oregon, what it would be like to finally give up and just stop somewhere. His mind wanders to Cas and what happened just weeks after the accident in Delaware. Was what he did the right thing? Cremation? Dean knows he would rather be buried so he could go haunt places, but Dean felt a cremation was the right thing to do. The water runs icy cold, bringing Dean back to the present.

Breakfast is a free complimentary breakfast made by the hotel staff Dean smiles as he starts thinking about bacon and waffles. Never eggs, the eggs are always horrible. He steps out of the shower and stands naked in the open room, anyone who walked in right now would see something they would never ever forget, this makes Dean smile a naughty little smile. The mirror is fogged over and that is just fine, he hates what he sees.

"Pig in a poke." He chuckles at the memory while he scrubs his wet head with the blue hand towel. He then throws his belonging into the black duffel bag and walks out of the room.

Coffee in one hand, steering wheel in the other, Dean is in four lanes of thick Seattle traffic, horns honking and snobbish drivers swearing. His room is off of exit 178A, but the address Crowley gave him is on exit 190, the traffic is bad enough that Dean decides to follow the main freeway to exit 190. He taps his thumb against the wheel and starts bobbing his head to BOC, his exit won't be for another twenty minutes if the traffic keeps up.

Delaware

"Sam? Sam! Sammy?" Dean looks over at his brother, but there is no response. Three more come after Dean, but he's already fighting off the ones that attacked Sam; Cas, on the other hand, is holding his knife close to his chest as he waves it to ward off the crocottas, they seem to find him funny. Cas looks over desperately at Dean, but he's gone and Sam is too.

"Sam? Dean?" He takes a couple steps foreword and realizes the brothers are on the floor together and as usual, Dean is huddled over Sam. They both appear to be okay, a little bloody, but unharmed. What happened to the formation they talked about before they got here? A triangle is the strongest shape because it has stability, unless one of the corners is taken down and it didn't surprise Cas that Sam was the weakest corner.

"Cas, to your left!" Dean shouts and points, a crocotta lunges itself at Cas, he feebly points his weapon at the monster. Sam is conscious, just knocked down, another heard of those bastards went after him, he stands up with Dean on his arm. "You okay man?" Dean looks at Sam, his brows knitted with worry.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Sam nods and dices another one. Less and less seem to be coming after them, was it just a young nest learning how to hunt and claim territory? Three more make their through the door, but they stop. Dean is crouched down, knife foreword and ready to send some crocotta ass to purgatory, but the three stop and slowly open their mouths with a sudden horror.

"What the hell?" Dean whispers and looks over at Cas, he quivers from the cold and steps closer, Sam tilts his head to one side and brushes his hair away.

"Well isn't it Madonna and the backup vocals?" Crowley's voice booms from behind. "I was going to tell you-" He starts in then stops. His mouth moves from a smug face to a small, thin, unreadable line. Too late, Sam was already on his knees, eyes staring strait ahead, his knife falls with a clatter. The three crocotta in the doorway make a frightened noise and rush out the door, leaving Dean, Cas, and Crowley with his goons. "Bollocks."

Now

Dean squeezes the styrofoam cup until it starts to squeal and crack, threatening to spill hot coffee on him and baby. A horn blasts loudly from behind him, exit 190 is directly to the right of him. "Son of a bitch." He throttles it and blasts off into the exit lane, several angry drivers honk and squeal their tires as their bumpers come dangerously close to the Kansas license plate.

The exit leads off into a poorer part of Seattle, houses have graffiti or broken windows, several bums hold out their hands expecting do-gooders to do some good. Dean drives by slowly and looks around for a street number. He slows down and stares at the napkin then looks at the building next to him. Neon signs are off and big door has a very large bad lock on it, as for signs of life there seems to be little to none. The faded sign hangs off of the muddy building and reads: Merciless Manhole. Two men are painted on the sign as well, they're both shirtless and hugging a pole.

Dean opens him mouth then looks away, he licks his lips and frowns. _Okay, I didn't see him swinging this way. Well, there was that time with Bobby..._ He shakes his head and turns the car down another street to park the car a couple blocks away; Dean doesn't want his baby to get gang banged. He turns down the ally and tests the back door, it's unlocked. He slowly pulls his gun out in case he's about to be jumped, behind this door number one lays a hallway. _Probably for the gay pimps with VIP_. The doorknob at the end of this grubby, dark hall is in the shape of a penis, a lapse of hesitation pools on him before he opens it. _Never again, I will never ever ever go into another club. Never. __A_ll the lights are on inside, but there are no people. Blues and yellows flash around a cage that's hanging from the ceiling, Dean is cloaked by a gauzy white curtain that surrounds a round brown couch. The VIP area, an area where the rich men get to watch the poor throw away their money.  
He wonders how many blood stains the brown couch is covering.

"Glad you could finally make it." A deep voice coos from the corner, Dean turns quickly to face the man who brought him here.

"This is sick, even for you this is really sick. Washington people are crazy, give me a monster any day, why the hell did you bring me here?" Dean walks over to Crowley and holsters his gun. The fact that he can't shoot Crowley just irritates the hell out of him, he would love to put one right through his smug face.

"Because I need you to see that I'm not public enemy number one." Crowley looks up and smiles warmly, genuinely, he's wearing a black suit with a ruby tie, the same damn one he wore in Delaware.

"You son of a bitch."

"Witch."

"Telekinesis, I know how you killed him. Cas doesn't have the juice because his grace was stolen, remember? Don't you dare give me this crap, all of my family is dead because of your pals. They came out of your ass!" Dean breathes deeply and grinds his teeth together, he's less than four inches from Crowley's face, but it doesn't seem to concern him.

"Oh bloody hell!" He stands with a snarl and an angry eye roll. "I'm not mad that moose tried to turn me human, although that would have been terrible. I can't begin to image what it is like to go about a normal American schedule. I wasn't following you or hunting you down to kill you and your men, I was following you to warn you about Sam." Crowley tilts his head to the left and shakes his head as though he was teaching a child. His smile resembles the Grinch's nicely, he must think he is talking to Cindy Lou Who.

"So you bring me here. How does this help your goddamn situation? We're about as far away from Delaware as we can get, if your plan is to convince me you didn't kill him you're going to have to try a lot harder." Dean shakes and leans in. "You are nothing, but a low life bottom sucker, leave me alone. I don't know why I listened to you in the first place." He shakes his head and turns away to leave.

"You came here, Dean because you know I didn't do it!" Crowley voice booms around the small space. It was as though a knife was stabbed into Dean's beating heart, he felt his feet root themselves into the shag carpet. His heart beat steadily, but hurt. It hurt so bad. _Why? "_You know, Dean. You know I was warning you. I brought my men down to restrain him, but it was almost impossible because your boy wonder lead you to believe that I was the enemy." Spit flies out of Crowley's mouth, his neck is scarlet, but he remains seated. Maybe what he is saying is actually true. _NO! He never ever tells the truth, don't you dare believe him, you will end up just like Bobby, dad, mom, and Sammy._

"He doesn't have the juice, we stayed at Bobby's for hours trying to get a goddamn candle to light. That poor son of a bitch sat there, exhausted because he knew he couldn't do it, but he tried anyways because he-"

"Loved you." Crowley leans in close, his smug ass smile shines like a strobe light as he whispers those two ugly words. "You are either as stupid as you seem or you just deny everything that you dislike, just like a six year old. Am I right?" He folds his thick hands together over one knee and crosses his legs like a king sitting on a throne. Dean turns around slowly, his cheeks grow a rich pink and his eyes glimmer. The tears fall one by one, but he keeps his cool even as his fists twist into knots, he is angry, but his pride is what made him hesitate. _Do I deny it? Or do I accept this horse-shit and get on with my life?_


	5. Five:Castiel's Story

Delaware

We find Dean in the Impala flying down a highway with Cas in the front seat. The car is dusty from the southern drought, but the eyes of the driver are moist and threatening heavy rain. "Dean, I feel we should be talking more." Cas attempts to make Dean talk about what happened just three weeks ago. "You hardly say more than two sentences a day now." He looks over, but Dean's eyes are gripped on the road. "Please, I'm sorry about Sam." Cas reaches over to touch his shoulder.

"Stop it. Just stop it." Dean looks over at him, the unemotional glare forces him to look at his lap and sigh sadly. "I've dealt with Sam being dead lots of times, he's done it for me, too. We're going to find a way to bring his sorry ass back to Georgia."

"Georgia?"

"Figure of speech. We'll find a way, don't you worry." Dean whispers and looks on at the road. Cas watches Dean and tries to decide between two evils he is faced with.

Tennessee harbors several different climates, hot, dry, wet, cold, forest, desert, rural, and urban. Cas steps out of the car, his jeans are stiff and uncomfortable, the slacks he wore for several years were much better than this. Being human is harder than it appears. Little was said, in fact nothing was said on the drive over, Cas hoped Dean didn't hold hard feelings after their argument. The hotel room is a baby blue with pinch of violet.

"Looks like Chad and Patrick were hired to decorate the place." Dean smiles and puts his bag down on the bed. Cas puts his things away and pulls out his laptop, just another case, another day, nothing wrong, nothing exciting. He's been without grace for a little under a year and he is already finding human life extraordinarily boring. As an angel you got orders, you had rules, you were superior and confident, everything is stripped away and replaced with ass scratching and staring at a computer screen now. It isn't all that bad, riding in the Car with Dean and being able to join on hunts is wonderful, but it does get repetitive.

"What do you have?" Dean's hanging above Cas's head, the tourist site has gone dim. He quickly moves the mouse and leans closer.

"There hasn't been any activity since the last sighting. It's been a week, do you think it's moved on?" Cas looks up, Dean's chin is so close you can almost count the stubble.

Dean looks down and frowns then moves away. "No, this thing is taking it's time and trying not to attract attention. You're next guess is wrong; it isn't Crowley."

Cas opens his mouth and stares at him, not in awe or shock, but in frustration. "Either you're going to talk about what happened in Delaware or you're going to loose a partner." This surprises him just as much as it surprises Cas.

"Please." Dean rolls his eyes and walks over to the cooler to pull out a beer. "We're low, we need to make a super stop." He winks and tips his beer then pops the top.

Cas throws the chair back and gets dangerously close to Dean's face. "Goddammit, talk to me!" A dark cloud comes into the room, the tenseness is thick enough to cut with a butter knife.

A long swig and lick of his lips Dean looks at Cas softly. "No." He shakes his head and stares calmly.

"I don't want to be your partner if you're not going to talk to me. We're together, we have to talk if we're going to make this work." Quoting love magazines was almost sickening, but Cas had no idea how to romance.

"Make this work?" Dean looks at him as though he just grew a horn out of his head. "What the hell does that mean?" He blinks several times and shakes the beer. "You think that we're..." He trails off then starts laughing. "This is hilarious, I've had a couple times in high school when this happened. You're just confused Cas, we just need to get you-" Dean's cut off with a sudden gesture of affection. He never saw if coming, he never even knew until right then.

"My emotions tell me that I hate you and love you. I don't think I can continue being with you all the time if you can't show that you care about anyone except yourself." Cas breaks away from Dean's lips, his face is frozen with pure shock.

A couple pieces start to fit together, but Dean pushes them to the back of his mind and tries to reply appropriately. "Son of a bitch." He says quietly and searches Cas's eyes for a sign. Anything, but what is actually there: Love and frustration. He doesn't move, he doesn't do anything and that leads to Cas picking up his bag and leaving the room.

Now

Dean opens his palms and looks at them, five dark red lines are highlighted on his palm. He hadn't quite cut his palm with his nails, but he was close. "What the hell are you saying to me?" He turns around to look at the king. Crowley sits quietly, letting Dean battle himself and his emotions. He looks royal, almost as though he knows he has Dean tied around the neck like a goat caught in a bunch of bramble.

"I think you know, but I'll spell it out: I did not kill moose." He says.

"Who did? I dare you, say it you douchebag."

"Need I bring him to the party? I'm sure he would enjoy this place quite a lot, of course he probably knows about since he lives near by." Crowley's fingers snap sharply and two men show up, neither one of them are built up, they look like average joes. "Bring out guest in." He looks over and nods.

Dean's eyes grow wide with fear when Cas is walked out, he never cared enough to find out where he went or if he was okay afterwards. Now the veil is pulled off and Dean gets to see what happened; sadly, he has dark stubble and his eyes look tired, angry and red. Guilt overwhelmed Dean and made his stomach do mad turns. "Screw you."

"Cas." Dean whispers and closes his eyes.

"Daddy would be so disappointed. I don't think your motto is: Abandoning people, ignoring things, is it?" Dean steps foreword to strangle the bastard, but of course, he's stopped and bound to the spot he's standing on. He looks over at Cas again, something is out of place here; there's enochian written on the chains, on the pole and something that looks like a demon trap surrounds Cas. He's bound?

"What the hell is going on? You stupid son of a bitch, he doesn't have a power, he's human, he's got bupkis" Dean tries to explain.

"Right, and the things that happened in Seattle were just...accidents?" Crowley tosses a couple three week old articles at Dean.

"'Fire Explodes In Nursery, Five Injured.' That's the one that happened last week, guess what the most interesting part is? It happened in the basement, lots of cement, nothing flammable."

"That's bullshit! Magic wasn't used, a fuse could of gone screwy." Dean shakes his head.

"Please continue."

One article after another the signs became obvious, magic is being used here in Seattle, but something was off; the attacker or monster is an amateur he/she was trying, but failing and getting angrier with each attempt. Hurricane-like symptoms hit Eastern Seattle last week while just three days ago four children under the age of seven were miraculously healed. Each child had dengue fever, their miraculous recovery lasted only five hours until their symptoms came back and dispatched the four. After that miracles turned into disasters and the body count was climbing a steap slope. Dean looks up at Cas, he didn't want to think it was him, but something in Dean's stomach tells him the truth. _You've seen angel's do this, you know very few angels are still around after The Fall. _Could it be possible Cas's power is back?

"So you're putting the fall on Cas? You're saying he is responsible for Sammy's death? He killed Sam with Sam's knife? How the hell did he pull that off, Crowley?"

"If you won't listen to me then I'll have to have your pet explain himself to you." Crowley looks over at Cas and smiles softly. Cas's eyes are a dark red and his nose is clearly broken, the chains are starting to chafe his wrists and his ratty blue shirt is speckled in blood, Crowley wanted information out of him. Crowley was known for using people as toys, but he usually only did that if there was information he needed. If he needed to clear his name then who knows how much damage he's done just trying to track Cas down. A bandanna is tied firmly around Cas's mouth, the two demon possessed slaves untie the blue gag and slap Cas's shoulder to jouster him into an alert state. "Cassy, would you please tell our audience why you're in the state you're in. Oh and do remember our arrangement." Cas looks up at Crowley with hurtful eyes, Dean's heart twists into a dark cube.

"Dean." He blinks before realizing who else is around. His voice sounds small and gravely, like he hasn't spoken in a while. "I-" He starts in, but Crowley silences him.

"Cas, please, we're not here for a reception, we are here to spread the truth."

"That's didn't sound godly at all." Dean mutters.

"Crowley has finally gotten to me and I fear that there is no way out of this. I'm sorry, Dean for what I did to you." Cas mumbles through a fat lip and closes his eyes. "He is right."

Dean looks up in shock and worry. "No, he can't be, these sons of bitches have bupkis on you."

"I have my grace back, it would be wrong for me to continue on this violent streak. Father would be upset with me if He knew what I was doing, He would give me the same punishment He gave my brother Lucifer if he knew." Cas's cheeks grow hot and tears run down.

"Cas." Dean glares at Crowley and jerks his foot. He smiles and nods, releasing Dean's two feet with a small wave, Dean walks over to the stage. "Cas, please." Dean steps onto the stage and goes closer. The stage is a brilliant blue with pretty green lights hanging from the ceiling, the red curtain leads one to believe that this stage is the main attraction at night.

"No." Cas shakes his head and closes his red eyes, he isn't crying anymore. "No. Don't come near me. You rejected me. After all that I did to get close to you! You refused me!" He shakes his chains while spit flies out of his mouth. His wrists break open and start to bleed the harder he rattles against his bindings, it is as though something inside of him broke free. A monster that once lived inside, but was never given the chance to actually live. Dean steps back and nearly falls off the stage, he looks back at his heal when he notices Crowley laughing. The damn bastard is laughing, he's acting as though this is a show, a drive in movie of sorts.

"This is sick! I 'refused' you when you took a move on me! I don't swing that way chickpea, I swing right, not left! Don't you dare think that I just rejected you! What would Sammy do if you pulled that crap on him? Suddenly our post angel buddy starts acting gay out of the blue after one of his partners die. Boy, I would love to shack-a-lack with you, Cas! Yeah, great plan dumbass, my brother is dead, I am and was depressed, of course I acted the way I did!" His chest rattles and his muscles feel loose. It was abrupt, but Dean almost collapsed. He was emotionally exhausted and angry, he felt empty, was he finally starting accept what he was feeling? Empty? Worthless? It was as though he had nothing inside of him. His chest felt heavy, not from emotions, but as though his lungs and heart had weight to them while his stomach sat vacant.

In the background Crowley makes a loud snorting sound, both Cas and Dean look over at him. "Really good show boys, really wonderful! Get to the punchline Cas, please I don't think I can take much more of this." He smiles wide, recrosses his legs and cradles his head with his thumb and forefinger.

"Really, Dean. Maybe my timing was bad, but I was still getting use to being human, remember? I would never of kissed you if Sam was around." Cas stops fighting and looks at Dean with cold eyes. He's making a point, but will Dean catch it? He smiles softly and starts laughing. "Do I have to spell it out?" Dean remains quiet while the tears build a wall and disturb his vision, Crowley was right.

"He was right." Those three words crashed Dean's little world of despair.

"Of course I was, dumb dumb." Crowley mumbles, he's starting to look a little bored.

Cas frowns and sniffs his nose. "Sam was in the way and you didn't give a rat's ass about me, Dean. Sam this and Sam that. Sammy Sammy Sammy, that is all you cared for, isn't it? I got hurt back in Delaware, but you rushed right over to Sam's side and that is when I had it, I knew that Crowley would find us that night, I knew he would so I set it up. I made it look like he stabbed Sam, I made you believe he did it! I hated that animal's guts because he got more attention from you than I did. I was trash to you! Filthy, worthless, ugly, trash and I didn't want to be that anymore so I did something about it. I acted like I wasn't getting my powers back, I hid us from Crowley, but made a trail, I made Delaware look like a case so we could work it. In the cabin that night I killed Sammy with my powers. I killed him and framed Crowley.

"Then, this is the best part, once precious little Sam was gone I had you all to myself. I didn't think you'd mope and whine all day every day. I finally gave up and tried to be bold so I kissed you."

"Lemme get this strait, you killed Sam to get to me? You know how twisted that is?" Dean whispers, the tears roll in waves. "You killed my brother so you could be..what? My boyfriend?" Dean's face twists and his hand wave uncontrollably, without a warning he throws a punch at Cas. His fist connects with Cas's cheekbone, probably shattering the thin blade as his head connects with the pole.

Cas shakes his head and spits a bit of blood. "Honey, that's what I did all right."

Again and again, Dean throws his fists at Cas's body left and right until he can feel his muscles refuse to understand his brain's command. His left arm shakes and his right hand is broken, but he doesn't care, finally he's gotten revenge for his brothers death, in fact, all of his dead family members have been avenged. Now what? Walk away? It's never been like that. Dean looks at Cas's limp body, his legs had given up about a quarter into the fight and now he's on the ground bleeding like a ruined artery. Dean looks at Crowley and wipes his snotty nose. _What now? _He thinks.

"What? You just beat the living shit out of your boyfriend there. You're expecting me to clean up the mess?" Crowley gets up and comes over. "You did a doozey on this one." He mumbles. Dean just stares at him expectantly. He sighs quietly and snaps three or four times, the man slaves come over and pick Cas up.

"Is that it?" Dean says quietly. "Is that all there is? He kills my brother then gets the shit beat of him just so he can live another day? What am I to do now, live in shit motels and in the Impala? Or maybe do what Sam wanted, go live." Dean looks at his numb hands.

Crowley slaps him on the shoulder and gives him a small hug, something he's never done. "Maybe you just need to stop for a bit, chap." Then he was gone. A pool of blood, stale lights and destroyed man is all that lay. Whether Cas was dead or not didn't matter to Dean. He didn't know if his own life mattered at the moment. He did know though that his heart felt more real and alive than it had felt in the last ten years.

Was he starting to heal?


	6. Thank You

_I would like anyone who actually reads this far to maybe leave a review, I would like to know how I did. If you have suggestions please put them in a review, I won't feel too good if any of the reviews are nasty or hateful so please don't do that._

_I spent a lot of time on this, I'm not the best typer, but I do have an imagination._

_Thanks to those who put in a review and thanks to those who helped me through this._

_Badwolf999_


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